


Drought

by idoltina



Series: Prompt Fills: Once Upon a Time [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Missing Year (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:26:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6842680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for <b>evil charming + rain</b>. Missing Year. When Regina goes missing during a brief scouting journey, David and Robin band together to find her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drought

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** allusions to potential disordered eating

It’s a cold, wet night in August when David finds himself being jostled awake in his tent. Blearily, he blinks his eyes open and props himself up on an elbow. “Robin?” he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you on watch?”

“Regina,” Robin breathes, eyes full of worry. “She’s left camp.”

David sits up the rest of the way, more awake now. “What do you mean she left camp? You wouldn’t --”

“I wouldn’t,” Robin affirms, leaning back so David can sit up and tug his boots on. “I’m not -- I don’t know what she did, but I think she made me fall asleep somehow. I’m not sure how long she’s been gone.” David swears under his breath as they emerge from tent into the campsite. The rain has mostly stopped, at least, but the ground is still saturated with water. The fire is starting to dim, in desperate need of stoking, but the horses are still tied to their posts. Wherever Regina’s gone, she’s either used her magic to transport herself or she’s set off on foot. “I think she headed west,” Robin ventures, moving toward the edge of the camp. “If she didn’t plant these to throw us off, I could probably track her pretty easily.”

“Let me,” David sighs, turning toward his tent to grab his cloak and sword.

“David,” Robin says gently, resting hand on David’s arm to prevent him from moving. “I think I should go.”

David levels him with a look. “She won’t be pleased to see you.”

“She never is,” Robin reminds him. “But I know these woods better than you do. It’ll take you longer to follow her. Let me go instead.”

Something twists in David’s chest, aching and conflicted. He trusts Robin -- he does -- but Regina is family to him, however reluctantly that might be at times. It doesn’t feel right to stay here and send someone else after her. It should be him, venturing out after her. The storm may yet pick up again and Robin has a child to get back to ( _so do you_ , David’s mind supplies, _and a wife at that_ ). But Robin _does_ know these woods better, which means he’s more likely to locate Regina more quickly than David could. And if the storm _does_ pick up again, getting Regina back to camp as fast as possible is more important than David’s desires.

So David stays at camp and guards the horses, stokes the fire and crafts a shoddy cover over it just before the rain picks up again. He seeks refuge under the trees after that, cloak tucked tight around him. It’s a full hour before he hears anything other than the hush of rain and the weak crackling of the fire and the soft snorts of the horses. It’s a snapped branch from the west edge of camp, followed by another, but it’s not until Robin’s shadow appears that David can hear his labored breathing. When Robin finally comes into clear view, the sight that greets David makes his stomach sink.

In Robin’s arms is a very much unconscious Regina.

David is on his feet and meeting Robin halfway before he can even so much as think about it, gut twisting with apprehension. “What happened?” he asks urgently. “Where was she?”

“Down by the river,” Robin groans, nodding in the direction of one of the tents. “Help me get her in there.”

Together, they manage to maneuver themselves and Regina into the tent and settle down on the ground. It’s darker in here, light from the fire outside barely making anything discernable. But David can see enough. He can see the way her skin glistens with rain, pale and peaked. He can see the way she shivers in her sleep, the way her fingers clutch weakly at Robin’s soaked shirt. Her breathing is shallow and uneven, and David thinks she might be trying to speak in her sleep if her voice didn’t seem shot. He reaches for her without thinking, desperate to wake her and get answers, but he pulls his hand back with a sharp hiss once their skin makes contact. “Her hands are like ice,” he says, voice just shy of a whisper.

“I know,” Robin murmurs, careful to keep his voice quiet. “She must’ve fallen asleep during the storm.” He’s quiet for a moment as he adjusts Regina in his arms, hesitating for a moment before pressing his lips to her forehead. “Fever’s already starting to set in, though,” he adds, giving Regina a once over. “We need to get her out of these clothes.”

It’s David’s turn to hesitate now, hands flexing anxiously as his eyes sweep over Regina’s frame. Her clothes are soaked through, that much is plain, but David is reluctant to try and change her. It’s silly -- Regina’s been accustomed to the life of royalty for decades at this point. She’s had personal maids and servants and a lack of privacy -- or at least she did at one point, for a while. Something tells David that there’s a part of her that’s still used to it. But David is also sure that Robin feels just as awkward about it as he does, sure that the idea of doing something like this even out of necessity doesn’t sit well with either of them. It feels strangely intimate and a lot personal, and David has a feeling Regina would incinerate them both if she knew. So it’s with as gentle a touch as he can muster while still being firm that David jostles Regina’s arm to try and wake her. It takes a few tries but she _does_ wake, eyes lidded and clouded with confusion. “We need to change your clothes,” he explains. “Do you --”

She’s half-sitting up before he can even finish the question, clearly barely cognizant and following direction almost blindly. She seems barely aware of the fact that she’s been in Robin’s arms, seems barely aware that either of them are still there at all. It’s only when she reaches down to clumsily pry off her boots that they realize she’s attempting to do this herself, and if he weren’t so worried about her, David would almost laugh at how stubborn she’s being. Robin lingers for half a moment before excusing himself, leaving David alone with Regina. Neither of them say a word in the following moments, but Regina seems to have enough presence of mind to turn away from him as she starts to strip herself bare. David turns away enough so that he can only see her back in his peripheral vision, but he can still see enough to make his brow knit with worry. She looks impossibly small without all of her clothes on, thinner than he ever remembers seeing her. The notches of her spine are even more prominent with her hair swept over her shoulder, and not for the first time, David wonders if they should insist upon her eating with them in the Great Hall when they’re at the palace.

David swallows around his ache and forces himself to look away.

It’s only now that he realizes they’re in Robin’s tent, which means that the few clothes she’s brought with her on this scouting mission aren’t in here. He opens his mouth to mention it, to ask her what she wants from her tent, but when he turns to look at her again, he clamps his mouth shut at the sight of her shrugging into one of Robin’s spare shirts. He’s not sure she’s totally aware of that she’s doing it, really, not with how heavily her eyes are drooping as she turns back around and reaches for the blanket.

Luckily, Robin’s inquiring voice manages to prevent David from commenting on it. “She’s decent,” David calls back, eyes flicking up to the top of the tent as the rain starts to fall harder.

Robin ducks his head in quickly and sinks down to his knees before pulling a small, steaming mug out from under his cloak. “I brought --” he starts, then stops once he catches sight of Regina curled up on the far end of the tent, dressed in his shirt. David can see the surprise in his expression, can see the way Robin goes a little slack-jawed at the sight of her. Still, he waits it out, chooses not to comment in hope that Robin will pull himself together so they can make sure Regina doesn’t get sick. “I, um, I brought tea,” Robin says finally, clearing his throat a little as he shifts over to Regina’s side of the tent. “I thought it’d help warm you up.” Regina doesn’t respond, though, doesn’t even so much as look at him, and it takes Robin three tries to press the mug carefully into her hands and get her to hold it tight enough that she won’t spill anything or drop it.

She’s fading -- fast.

David excuses himself for a few brief moments to change into something dry and search his belongings for something that might help. He doesn’t have much with him -- they’re maybe ten miles from the nearest town and hadn’t thought to be gone all that long in the first place. He’s got a few medicinal herbs from the apothecary, though he’s not sure any of them will help Regina right now. Still, he gathers up what he has and makes his way back to Robin’s tent.

He’s not sure if he’s surprised at the sight that greets him upon his return. Robin’s changed as well -- or at least he has in pieces, making him a little more dry and a better source of warmth. Regina looks marginally more awake than she did before, although not by much. Still, there are faint traces of reluctance and annoyance in her expression as she curls closer to Robin -- presumably to take advantage of his body heat. There’s more, there, though, beneath that -- David can tell. She looks begrudgingly grateful for the assistance, body lax in Robin’s embrace as his hands rub soothingly along her back and arm. The teacup has been abandoned in the few minutes that David’s been gone, but it looks at least half empty, which he figures is better than nothing.

Quietly, David settles down across from them and sets his bag down in the corner for later. Regina doesn’t try to meet his eyes when he ducks his head to get a better look at her. “Regina,” he ventures, tentative and quiet, “why did you go down to the river in this storm?”

And still, Regina won’t meet his eyes, but she tenses up visibly at the question, so he knows that she’s a little more cognizant than before, at least. She’s silent for a very long, weighted moment before she answers, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s his birthday,” she says, sounding small, and David closes his eyes in ache.

Henry.


End file.
